When Darkness Turns to Light
by unique-leigh
Summary: Memories that she's tried so hard to forget will be relived. Hurt she's tried to bury will be unearthed. Feelings she's tried to deny will be accepted. Darkness will be turned to light. All Hermione has to do is make a choice. Sounds simple enough, right?
1. Chapter 1

_**It's been a while. A lot has happened. Let's see where this one goes. I will aim to return to Paperweight as soon as the mood strikes. My grammar sucks. I apologise. Anyone who wants to beta is welcome. All the love xx**_

**Disclaimer: The only thing that belongs to me is the plot, as always. **

_Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions  
__I keep my visions to myself, it's only me  
__Who wants to wrap around your dreams and,  
__Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?  
__Dreams of loneliness,  
__Like a heartbeat, drives you mad  
__In the stillness of remembering, what you had,_

**_Fleetwood Mac - Dreams_**

There's a hand reaching up for her and a pair of eyes full of fear, silently looking in her direction for help. She tries to reach for the hand, to pull its owner from the darkness swallowing them and launch them up into the light. But she is too late. The hand is too far away, the eyes are the only spots of light she can see in the dark now and even they are slowly fading. And suddenly they are gone and her ears are filled with a terrible shriek…

She sits up suddenly gasping for air as if she had just swum the length of a pool underwater. Her hands are trembling and she's shivering even though it's the middle of summer. The heat of the room is pressing against her lungs as she fights to even her breathing. Throwing back the thin sheet covering her she slips out of bed and pads shakily over to the semi-open window and shoves it open the rest of the way with all her might.

She takes in deep gulps of the crisp air, slowly feeling her heart rate return to normal and the shaking subside. She shakes her head, mortified at her own silliness. _It's just that ruddy dream again, Hermione. _She chastises herself. _You've had it nearly every night for six months. You should be used to it by now. _

But she's not used to it. The dream is still just as haunting as it was that first night she dreamt it, all those months ago. It was silly, what had triggered it. A stupid fight with Ron before bed, a name shouted that she had tried so desperately to push out of her mind since the battle of Hogwarts nearly a year prior.

"STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M DRACO FUCKING MALFOY," Ron had bellowed after she'd shot him a look on contempt during their argument. The name had shot through her like a shard of broken glass, piercing her chest and lodging itself there, refusing to budge no matter how hard she tried to remove it.

It was the first time she'd heard his name in years. He wasn't mentioned in any of the discussions she had had surrounding that horrible, horrible day. But she never had forgotten, never had managed to completely rid her mind of the memory of his face as he was forced to choose a side.

Ron still believed that that last stupid argument - over goodness know what now - was what had put their relationship on the fast track to ruin. She hadn't bothered to correct him. She still hadn't told him that their relationship was over only months after it had started from her point of view. That the love she thought she had felt for him was nothing more than an intense desire to help her to forget and to help him to forget, in some way too the horror that had unfolded in front of them in what should have been their final year at Hogwarts.

Harry had Ginny to comfort him, to hold him in the night when he woke up screaming. Ginny had Harry's shoulder to sob desolately onto during the untold number of funerals they'd attended in the month following the Battle.

The truth of the matter was, Ron had needed her and she had needed him to support each other through the never-ending healing process. And she _did _love him. Like a brother. After the Battle, every kiss they had shared had her wincing on the inside. It felt wrong in some way to be so intimate with Ron, even though she had thought it was what she had wanted at the time.

_Unresolved sexual tension, _her mother had referred to it as when she sat her down after their breakup and told her the whole story. According to her, had they kissed under normal circumstances the whole thing would have been done and dusted with in minutes. But the incredible strain that they were both under at the time forced her to keep up a charade for both of their sakes.

But it was over _now_ and that's what mattered to Hermione. She had broken up with him as gently as possible, saying that they were headed in two different directions (which was true) and she wanted to salvage the friendship they shared, rather than press on in a relationship that neither of them was fully invested in.

The way Ron had taken it, agreeing to push aside the last twelve months of their lives without so much as a moment's hesitation, told Hermione all she needed to know. They were there for each other when they'd needed each other the most and now they were both ready to move on.

And now, just shy six months of six months later, she know they'd made the right call at the right time. Harry and Ginny had just announced their engagement and Ron was in a relationship with a friend of Fleur's whom he had met when she had stayed at Shell Cottage for a few weeks.

Emilie was a much better match for Ron than herself Hermione thought privately. The girl was playful and mischievous, a wicked twinkle always visible in her sparkling blue eyes. She'd never seen the two of them so much as raise their eyebrows in annoyance at each other, whereas she and Ron were always arguing about something or another.

Her sentiments were echoed by Molly when she'd let slip once that she'd not seen Ron look so carefree in sometime. Molly had looked guiltily at Hermione as the two of them had laid the table for supper, mumbling a hurried apology and turning away, flustered. Hermione had taken Molly's hand and had assured her that she agreed wholeheartedly. At the end of the day, she and Ron were a nightmare of a couple. More plates than she liked to admit had been thrown at the back of a retreating ginger head and too many nights had been spent in stony silence. Neither of them were truly happy.

Hermione was grateful though, that the Weasley's continued to treat her as one of their own. She had an open invitation to the Sunday roasts cooked by Molly each and every weekend and they even began to tease her about bringing a 'plus-one' to the family gatherings. Hermione jokingly brushed them off, citing focusing on her studies as the main reason she had not found someone yet.

But standing there, in front of her bedroom window that night, staring unseeingly out into the cloudless sky, she knew in her heart of hearts there was another reason. The reason being there was the image of a pair of eyes, burned into the back of her retinas, a pair of eyes so full of fear that it took her breath away.

The reason was the eyes that were begging to be pulled from the darkness and into the light.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Here's the second chapter! Hope you enjoy. Just so you're aware – this story is a re-vamp of a story I started a while ago. Let's see how this one goes! Please review. All the love. xx**

_And thoughts come to mind  
That our short little lives,  
Haven't left the path that they will tread  
They will tread  
I'll come back to haunt you  
Memories will taunt you_

_**Bastille - Haunt **_

_Through wonder-widened eyes 11-year old Hermione Granger tried to drink in every square inch of Diagon Alley. She walked in a daze through the streets crowded with weird and wonderful people most of them exclaiming about the latest Quidditich news (whatever that was) or swapping potion brewing tips. She read every single sign, hungrily drinking in the new information available to her as she was hurried along by the Wizard sent by Hogwarts to help her get her supplies. _

_Questions bubbled from her lips with every new store front and she began to get the distinct impression that her guide would rather be somewhere else. Her excitement grew as her possessions began to multiply and soon she was laden with spell books, parchment, quills, ink and best of all a wand, laid carefully inside its box protected by layer upon layer of tissue paper. _

_The final stop on Hermione's fly-by tour of Diagon Alley was Madame Malkin's for her new robes. Secretly Hermione was thrilled at the prospect of dressing like a proper witch with robes that swished around her feet and the pointed hats which were far less scary than the muggle tales (another new word!) had you believe. _

_Once they were inside the store, Hermione's chaperone made some excuse or another to dodge the que and promised to meet her outside in thirty minutes. Tentatively, Hermione waited in line, switching from one foot to another as the bell above the door rang and signalled a new customer. _

_A boy walked in and Hermione drew in a sharp breath. His unusual eyes landed on her within seconds of entering and she felt something shift inside her. He strode over confidently, taking his place in line next to her. As he walked she studied his milk-coloured skin and his blonde hair, gelled to perfection. _

"_Draco Malfoy," he said by way of introduction, holding out a pale hand for her to shake. _

_She took his hand and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, it was a lot warmer than she expected. "Hermione," she responded shyly, not quite meeting his eye. _

"_Are you a first year at Hogwarts?" he prompted. _

"_Oh yes," Hermione breathed. "Are you?" _

"_Yep," Draco responded proudly. "I can't wait to get out of the house. Mother is driving me mad." _

_Hermione giggled, unsure as to why this strange looking boy was having such an unusual effect on her. Her stomach felt swimmy and she was sure she was blushing to the roots of her hair "I'm sure she's not that bad." _

_Draco groaned dramatically, apparently enjoying having an audience. "You wouldn't say that if you lived with her. It's Draco this and Draco that every waking moment. She's a bloody nightmare. I wish she'd have another kid, it might give her something else to do." _

_The next few minutes flew past and before Hermione knew it her name was called and she was being poked and prodded with pins while her new school robes were fitted. She looked around for Draco on her to the counter and was startled by the change in the boy since she left him. His relaxed demeanour was replaced with a ramrod straight back and an uncomfortable shuffle from side to side. A glance to his side told her all she needed to know. A man who could be no one other than his father was by Draco's side, his lips pursed together in an unbecoming smirk as he glanced around the shop. _

"_Oh do stop fidgeting Draco," he snapped suddenly and Hermione watched as a red stain crept up Draco's neck and settled on his cheeks. "Honestly, where is your Mother? It's high time we were out of here. Diagon Alley is crawling with muggleborns these days, it's disgusting." _

_The disapproving murmur that ran through the store matched Hermione's own shocked expression. Surely just because her parents were muggles didn't mean she was any less of a witch? One last look at Draco as she left the store told her all she needed to know. In the Malfoy's eyes, it did. _

"Mam, your change? Your change the irritated voice of the shop assistant jerked Hermione back to reality and she mumbled an apology, the images of her younger self disappearing. She handed over her change and took the paper bag containing her new work robes before hustling out of Madame Malkin's and disapperated to work… she was nearly late for the shift that would change her life.

* * *

"Granger, you're need on the fourth floor. Room 202. Splinching incident by the look of it."

Hermione's head snapped up and she nodded to the back of the lime green robes that were hurrying around the corner. The hustle and bustle of St Mungo's was a welcome distraction from the thoughts that were clouding her mind more often than not lately.

A feeling weighed down on her heavily as she strode towards room 202. She felt as if she was standing on a precipice, balanced on a knife's edge. Something was going to happen. Something had to happen. She just didn't know what.

She was uncomfortable in her own skin, these memories that plagued her were pressing on her consciousness, telling her that it was time. She needed to do something, anything to rid herself of the feeling she could have done more.

Maybe that was the reason she had gone into magical medicine, she mused. Maybe she was haunted by the pleading eyes even then and she was doing everything she could to elevate the guilt without actually giving into the memories and letting them consume her entirely.

Hermione shook her head, gathering her thoughts before she pushed the door to Room 202 open.

The first thing she was aware of when was the nauseating smell that permeated the entire room. She would recognise that smell anywhere and she swallowed the bile rising in her throat at her own memories of drinking Polyjuice. A darkened bathroom flashed in her mind, followed by the Dursley's living room. The events that began at both of these places were better off forgotten.

"Unknown male. Approximately 31 years of age. Brown hair. Suspected splinching injury located on inner left forearm," the description given hastily by the healing assistant on duty did nothing to prepare her for what was coming.

Pulling on a pair of gloves she walked to the bedside and pushed back the sheets to reveal a heavily blood stained bandage on a hairy arm. Cringing, she cast a Scourgify charm, cleansing the arm and the material of blood before she gingerly unwound the makeshift bandage.

She frowned to herself as she peered at the wound her brow furrowed in confusion. This wound was unlike any other splinching injury she'd seen before. It was almost as if someone had peeled back layer after layer of the skin and left a rectangular scar covered in blood and pus behind.

She turned to the healing assistant and asked her to call a superior in for a consult. As the woman left the room the skin began to bubble under her hands and she lept back, startled but not altogether surprised as the thick, hairy arm began to transform into a thin, pale arm.

Her eyes flickered to the patients face for the first time she had entered the room. Brown hair was quickly turning blonde and with every second a year seemed to be shaved of the patients' age until he was left looking no older than her, pale and silent on the rough hospital sheets.

A deep groan rumbled from the patient's chest, his head shifting from side to side on the pillow as he began to stir, the effects of the calming potion he'd no doubt been administered upon his admission wearing off.

The sunken eyes flickered opened and a single gasp escaped her throat as the grey eyes that had haunted her dreams for months locked straight onto her chocolate brown orbs.


End file.
